


Immortal, not Invulnerable

by raewrites98



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: BAMF Magnus Bane, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Violence, Post-Episode: s02e08 Love is a Devil, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-15 09:16:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16060088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raewrites98/pseuds/raewrites98
Summary: There’s a sudden sharp tug at the back of Magnus' mind, like a rubber band stretched so thin it snaps. The glass falls from his hands. It shatters onto the floor.His wards are down.(Or: Circle members infiltrate the loft, intent on killing Magnus. Set after the events of 2x08.)





	1. Chapter One

It’s been a few days since the events of Max’s rune ceremony and the accompanying party held at Magnus’ loft. His spellbook is still missing and no one is even a step closer to finding Valentine.

Magnus pours himself another glass of liquor. He steps out onto the balcony and rests against the railing. The New York City skyline is bright and lively as ever in the city that never sleeps. A sharp breeze tickles his skin. He takes a sip of his drink.

Alec is still caught up at the institute, filing report after report for the Clave. Magnus hopes he’ll be home soon. The past few days after the party have been hectic. All Magnus wants is to hold him in his arms and reassure himself Alec is still alive. Magnus’ fingers tighten around his glass. It cracks under the pressure of his magic. Seeing Alec up on that ledge — it was almost too much to bare. It brought up memories he’s spent decades trying to forget. Memories of his own lapse in strength. When he too once stood on a ledge, questioning his existence.

Acid burns in Magnus’ throat. Curse Iris Rouse and her stupid games. Even though she had been manipulated by Valentine into cooperating, Magnus can’t find it in his heart to forgive her. Her spell nearly cost Alexander his life. Thank goodness she’s the Clave’s problem now. Magnus isn’t sure what he would have done to her if given the opportunity. He’s not sure he wants to find out, either.

The ice cubes in his glass have melted - a testament to how long he’s been outside, lost in thought. Chugging the last of the watered-down alcohol, Magnus abandons the balcony. He leaves the doors open. The scent of autumn air is a welcome change in his loft.

Entering the kitchen, Magnus scours the fridge and cupboards for something to cook with. He’s gotten into the habit of cooking their meals lately, instead of summoning them. It’s a nice change from his usual routine and keeps his hands and thoughts occupied. Alec has expressed his love for Magnus’ cooking many times as well, which only helps fuel this newfound interest.

Magnus pulls fresh vegetables and steak from the fridge. He busies himself with chopping up the carrots and squash and onions. Butter sizzles in the pan. With a snap of his fingers, the radio springs to life.

A text comes through on his phone. He dries his hands and searches for it. It lies on the dining table, where he left it earlier that morning.

**From: Alexander <3  
[17:53] Almost done. Miss you.**

A smile curls Magnus’ lips. He shoots a quick reply and goes back to cooking, a spring in his step. He hums along with the radio. Just as he moves to throw the chopped veggies in the pan, a knock comes from the front door. Curious, Magnus lowers the heat of the stove and wipes his hands.

Alec’s warm smile greets him as he opens the door. “Hey,” he says.

“That was quick, I wasn’t expecting you so soon.” Magnus moves to let Alec in. He leans forward to kiss his cheek . “Welcome home, Alexander.”

“Thanks.” Alec looks around. “You look relaxed. Done with work for the night?” He stands with his hands clasped behind his back, head tilted.

“Yes, I’m wonderfully client-free this evening,” Magnus says. He whirls around and heads to the liquor cabinet to pour them a celebratory drink. More whiskey for him and something sweeter for Alec. “My client had to reschedule for next week instead.” Magnus halts, bottle of alcohol in hand. “Didn’t I tell you that yesterday?” He could have sworn they spoke about it over dinner.

Alec is silent for a moment. “It must’ve slipped my mind, I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”

Magnus frowns. Something in Alec’s voice unsettles him. Wary, he discretely summons his magic to his fingertips, but he doesn’t get the chance to act on his suspicions. There’s a sudden sharp tug at the back of his mind, like a rubber band stretched so thin it snaps. The glass falls from his hands. It shatters onto the floor.

His wards are down.

Before Magnus has the chance to summon them back up, he spins to see Alec’s face morph into that of another shadowhunter. One with a burning red circle rune carved into his skin. The shadowhunter catches him by surprise and lunges forward, stabbing something into Magnus’ neck. With a rush of magic, he sends the intruder flying into the wall. The stonework cracks under the force of the blast.

Magnus raises a hand to his neck. A single drop of a greenish, slimy substance coats his fingers.

_Demon venom._

He grits his teeth, clasping the edge of the liquor cabinet as his vision doubles. Liquid fire courses through his veins.

The circle member groans. He peels himself off the wall, unsheathing his seraph blade. “Valentine said you’re a cocky bastard, so I thought to bring precautions.” His thin lips stretch into an unsightly grin. “Bet you’re not too confident now, are you, warlock?”

“I’m rather offended you think one of you mortals is enough to defeat me.” Even with poison slowly taking effect, one shadowhunter low-life is no match for Magnus. Magic crackles in the air. “You should know better than to underestimate a centuries-old warlock.”

“Good thing I’m not alone then.” At that, the doors to the loft burst open, splinters of wood flying across the floor. A group of three or more circle members flood the loft, all with weapons drawn.

Magnus grits his teeth. This evening might prove to be a challenge.

The magic in the air coalesces across his fingertips. He sends the blast of energy towards the shadowhunters, knocking them to the ground. They are quick to rise. One of the women slashes at him with her seraph blade once, twice, driving him back into a corner. He summons a burst of fire and extends his hands. Her clothes ignite immediately, sending her stumbling back with cries of anguish. She slumps to the floor.

The fight quickly becomes a dance as Magnus moves around the loft, over couches and behind tables. He pulls a bookshelf on top of a circle member with a flick of his hands. Bones shatter under the weight of the wood. There are two shadowhunters left.

One rushes at him, blade coming down in an arch. Magnus ducks and swings a leg under the man’s feet, knocking him down on his back. The seraph blade clatters to the floor. Magnus rushes to pick it up. He thrusts the blade down into the shadowhunter’s stomach. The light fades from his eyes.

Magnus pulls back and scans the area. Sweat drips down his face. The venom’s effects have increased at this point. His movements are sluggish, spells taking longer to form as the magic weaves aimlessly across his hands. Blood rushes in his ears. The last shadowhunter stands a few feet away, the coffee table separating them. For a moment, no one moves.

They both charge forward to attack.

The shadowhunter is quicker. His hands snatch the lapels of Magnus’ coat and lift him off his feet. Magnus is slammed into the coffee table, punching the breath from his lungs. The glass shatters under the force of the blow. He coughs. His back is on fire. Disoriented, he feels around the floor. His fingers brush against a piece of glass. The shard slices his hand as he grasps it.

The circle member leans over Magnus, his face blurred by the poison coursing through his system. His warm breath stinks of rotten flesh. “Time to say goodbye, warlock,” he spits.

With a last rush of adrenaline, Magnus thrusts the glass in the circle member’s eye.

The man stumbles backward, clutching the shard as rivulets of blood stream down his face. He wails. “Son of a bitch!”

At the sudden opportunity, Magnus turns and drags his body towards the upturned dining table. His phone lies not too far away, having been thrown around in the scuffle. He’s so close to reaching it, fingertips almost brushing the metallic edge…

A foot comes crashing down on Magnus’ hand. He cries out in pain. The bones in his fingers shatter under the sheer force, along with his phone. He’s flipped onto his back and pulled up by the collar of his shirt. The burning metal of a seraph blade sinks deep into his chest, searing his skin where it touches his demonic flesh. Blood wells up in his throat.

The circle member drops him onto the floor. The door slams shut as he escapes the loft. A soft breeze carries the crisp winter air into the room, playing with the curtains’ soft fabric. A car honks in the distance. The loft is quiet.

Magnus’ eyes are heavy. He fights to keep them open, blinking the tears from his eyes. Every cell in his body is on fire and his heartbeat pulses in his ears. The floor is slick with his blood.

His eyes slide shut.

*******

With a groan, Alec leans back and stretches his hands far above his head. The kinks in his shoulders pop. He cracks his neck left and right. A neat stack of fully-signed papers lay on his desk. He caps his pen, finally finished with the terribly long task of writing and signing reports. Generally, Alec doesn’t mind paperwork. He finds comfort in the repetitiveness of it, how every form follows the same structure. However, after the events of last week’s party and the overall tension in the air, all he longs for is to be back at home with Magnus.

Which he can actually do now, Alec jolts in realization. With no more paperwork left to sign or missions to oversee, he can finally head home after a long day. He jumps from behind his desk, snatching up his coat and phone. Sending Magnus a quick text, he pulls on his jacket and heads out into the hallway.

**To: Mags  
[18:22] Heading home. Be there in ten. Ly.**

“Heading out?” Izzy asks as he enters the command center. She spins on her heels to face him, a smile on her ruby red lips.

“Yeah, it’s been a long day.” Alec gives her a hug. Her hands shake as she raises her arms to return the gesture, even though she tries to hide it with a confident smile. Izzy’s been acting different ever since the demon possession inside the institute. Though, truthfully, Alec hasn’t been quite the same either. He shouldn’t be one to pass any judgement. Still, he makes a mental note to talk to her about it soon. He’ll give her time to come to him first. “Goodnight, Iz.” Alec presses a kiss to her forehead and heads towards the entrance of the Institute. In afterthought, he turns around and adds, “I’m taking tomorrow morning off. Call me if you need me.”

Izzy simply smiles, pride in her eyes. “Tell Magnus I said hi.”

The evening air nips at Alec’s nose as he steps outside. He activates his Heightened Speed and Invisibility runes and digs his fingers in his coat pockets. Usually, he enjoys the evening strolls through New York’s busy streets. Sometimes, he’ll stop by Magnus’ favorite bakery for desserts or buy him a small trinket from one of the lesser known shops. Tonight, however, he’s driven himself mad sitting behind his desk all day and simply wishes to be home as soon as possible.

With the help of his invisibility, he makes quick work of the crowded streets, deftly avoiding a couple that stops right in front of his nose to take a picture with one of the street artists. He mutters under his breath. Checking his phone, there’s still no next from Magnus. In and of itself, that isn’t much of a surprise. Magnus is often caught up with clients or potions throughout the evening. Still, Alec would have liked some form of confirmation, given the recent events and rising tension between Valentine’s followers and the shadowworld.

Alec takes the steps up to the loft two at a time. His hands, though stuffed in his pockets for most of the trip, are frigid. It’s only mid-October and yet the temperature has dropped severely compared to just a few weeks before. Perhaps New York will get lots of snow this year. Or maybe he’ll be able to take Magnus on a vacation after Christmas. Given the time they started dating, Alec hasn’t gotten the opportunity to spend a winter with Magnus yet. He looks forward to it this year. Cuddling in front of the fireplace, snowball fights with his siblings, sitting on the roof with hot chocolate and Magnus against his chest, draped in blankets…

Alec’s so caught up in his daydreaming, he nearly misses the trail of dark stains leading down the lobby. His trained eyes happen to catch it as he turns the corner. They look suspiciously like blood. His heart pounds in his chest. Pulling out his stele, he activates a few more runes and unsheathes his seraph blade.

A quick scan of the hallway tells him the trail leads from Magnus’ loft. The door is cracked, as if forcibly kicked open. He pushes it with his fingertips. The hallway is empty, save for the trail of blood. Music drifts from the living room. Something is burning in the kitchen.

“Magnus?” Alec says. His palms are sweaty. He shuffles down the hallway, eyes and ears alert for any sign of intruders. Something crunches under his feet. He looks down to see pieces of glass shattered under the weight of his boots. Bodies of circle members litter the floor. His gaze follows the mess, from the dead shadowhunters to the scattered books and fallen paintings. His breath catches in his throat.

Magnus lies on his back in the center of the room, surrounded by a pool of blood. The hilt of weapon, unmistakably that of a seraph blade, protrudes from his chest. He isn’t moving.

Alec rushes over. He sinks to the floor, shards of glass slicing his knees. “Magnus?” he croaks. “Mags, hey, come on, look at me.”

Magnus groans. His head lolls back in Alec’s grasp. The veins around his neck are tinted with a sickly greenish hue. His pulse is ever so faint. “Alec,” Magnus slurs. He coughs deep from within his chest, specks of blood painting his lips.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay, don’t force yourself.” As Alec reaches for one of Magnus’ hands, he flinches. The bones in Magnus’ fingers are mangled and crushed. Alec swallows the bile that rises in his throat. He strokes Magnus’ sweat-slicked hair out of his face, watching as Magnus struggles to open his eyes. “Just stay with me,” he whispers. “Please, stay with me.” He hurries to pull his phone from his pocket.

By the angel, he hopes he’s not too late.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery isn't easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those who commented and/or left kudos. It means the world to me! I hope you all enjoy chapter two just as much as the first :) <3

Alec startles from his sleep. The book in his lap clatters to the ground as he rushes to sit up, wiping the drool from his face. There is an ache in his neck from sleeping in the chair he placed next to Magnus’ bed. He sat down with the intention of reading up on some files Izzy sent him, but sleep had claimed him instead. He looks around, trying to find the source of the noise that pulled him from his dreams.

Thunder rolls in the distance as rain continues to beat against the windows. The only source of light is the lamp on the nightstand. Convinced it was just the storm that woke him, Alec settles back into his seat. He picks up the book and smooths out the crinkled pages.

After a minute or two, Alec’s head tilts forward, eyes drooping. The past few days have been rough. His sleep schedule has consisted of multiple five-minute naps throughout the day and maybe an hour or two at night. Three if he’s in luck. His Stamina rune burns from being used over again and again. And yet he can’t find it in himself to leave the chair and sleep on the couch for a night.  He has to take care of Magnus.

Magnus lies on the bed with the covers pulled up to his chest. His skin is pale, shining with a thin layer of sweat. He has been asleep for three days, with periods of delirium that always last a minute or two at most. Catarina purged him of the demon venom, but the side-effects have taken quite the toll on Magnus’ body.

In a last attempt to fight off the need for sleep, Alec decides to scan through the files again. It’s an old demonology script from the Institute. He’s just about to turn the page when a noise interrupts him. It takes him a full minute to realize it’s coming from the bed.

Alec jumps up. He discards the papers and sinks to his knees next to the bed. “Magnus?” he whispers. He knows better than to get his hopes up. Magnus has been floating in and out of consciousness for the past few days. Even so, Alec can’t help the racing of his heart or the spark of hope that kindles in his chest.

Magnus groans. His eyes open slowly, revealing slitted pupils surrounded by gold. He blinks once. Twice. A smile blooms across his face. “Alec,” he sighs.  His voice is hoarse from screaming when Catarina siphoned the venom from his veins. Alec has a feeling those broken cries are going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

A weight falls from Alec’s shoulders. He slumps forward, a laugh escaping his lips as he rests his head on the sheets. “Thank the angel,” he says. “You’re awake.”

“And what a lovely sight I get to wake up to,” Magnus says. He tries to wink, but is overcome by a sudden coughing fit.

Alec shakes his head fondly, warmth flooding his cheeks. "Here, drink this.” He rushes to grab the glass of water sitting on the bedside table. He cradles Magnus’ head as he helps raise the glass to his lips.

Once the glass is completely drained, Magnus positions himself against the pillows. His arms quiver from the effort needed to pull himself up. “How bad is it?” He stares at his bandaged hand.

Alec brushes a strand of hair out of Magnus’ eyes. He pulls the hand into his lap, thumb stroking circles on his wrist. “You’re going to be fine. Catarina healed the worst of it.” He stares over Magnus’ shoulder, picturing the blood-soaked carpet and shattered coffee table.

“Alexander?” Magnus’ other hand comes to clasp his face.

Alec swallows the lump in his throat and forces a smile. “Just let your magic take care of the rest, okay? And in the meantime, I’m here for you.” He leans to press a kiss to Magnus’ head. “Whatever you need.”

The tension drops from Magnus' shoulders. He rests his forehead against Alec’s, playing with the short hairs at Alec’s nape. “Thank you,” he whispers. He pulls back. “Please tell me Catarina hasn’t forbidden me from taking showers. I think I’ll gag if I have to smell like this any longer.” He grimaces.

Alec laughs despite himself. “I think we can manage a bath.”

They struggle to position themselves in the least uncomfortable way in the bathtub, settling on Magnus sitting between Alec’s legs, back against his chest. The steam of the water fogs up the mirrors. Alec takes his time rinsing Magnus’ body, mindful of his injuries. He squirts some of Magnus’ homemade shampoo on his hand and busies himself with lathering up Magnus’ hair. He relishes in the feeling of the soft strands between his fingers. The blend of Indian sandalwood smells as delicious as ever.

Magnus hums. “How long was I out?”

“Three days, more or less.” Alec reaches for the shower head. “Close your eyes,” he adds, placing a kiss on Magnus’ temple.

Magnus obeys, leaning his head back. “Thank you for taking care of me, Alexander.” He lets out a long sigh. “Even though I got myself into this mess.”

“What?” Alec frowns. “Magnus, you can’t possibly believe that.” He rinses the last of the shampoo out of Magnus’ hair.

“I let that sorry excuse for a shadowhunter into my home, Alec.” Magnus pulls his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. “I made the foolish mistake of letting my guard down because I thought I was safe. I thought I was with you.”

“What?” Alec’s heart plummets to his feet. “What do you mean?”

“The man was glamoured to look like you,” Magnus mumbles. “It’s why I let him in.”

Alec’s blood boils. He grits his teeth, knuckles turning white from gripping the shower hose. He’s going to kill Valentine with his own bare hands.

The anger coursing through his veins quickly turns into guilt. His stomach churns. Alec knows that Magnus, as powerful as he is, has always been a threat to the Circle. Yet he can’t help but feel his relationship with Magnus somehow painted a target on his back. Why else would the Circle use Alec’s face to get close to him?

A quiver in Magnus’ shoulders catches Alec’s attention. A quiet sob escapes Magnus’ lips.

Alec drops the hose immediately. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” His hands hover above Magnus’ frame, too afraid to touch yet longing to offer support.

Magnus shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he laughs, wiping at the few stray tears rolling down his face. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”

“Talk to me. You know I’m here for you,” Alec says. A small voice whispers at the back of his mind, _If that were really true, Magnus wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place._ He swallows around the lump in his throat.

There’s a moment of silence. Magnus’ hands tremble. “I don’t remember much of that evening, but,” he pauses with a slow inhale. “I remember feeling so scared, Alexander. All I could think of was that I was going to die alone.” He stares at the wall, mind far away. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Alec pushes every shred of guilt to the back of his mind. “Come here.” He envelops Magnus in a careful embrace, pressing a kiss to his head. “You’re okay.” He inhales the sharp scent of sandalwood in Magnus’ hair. “I’m right here, Magnus. I’m not going anywhere.”

*******

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Luke asks, standing at the entrance of Magnus' office.

Magnus rolls his eyes. “I’m centuries old. I can handle a few injuries.” He turns back to the potion brewing on his desk. With the last ingredient added, the liquid bubbles and turns a deep violet. A puff of smoke wafts from the vial. He turns to Luke with a well-practiced smile. “So, what can I do for you?”

Contrary to what Magnus would like to believe, he still isn’t feeling at his best. It’s been almost a week since he first woke up, yet his body is slow to respond and his hand aches if he uses too much magic. His chest is still wrapped in bandages, hidden under his fashionable shirt and blazer.

Magnus started seeing clients again yesterday, to get back into the habit of using magic. The requested incantations and potions aren’t too taxing on his body. He is, however, close to reaching his limit for the day. He should know better than to push himself. But who is he to turn down a friend in a time of need?

Luke scratches the back of his neck. “One of my new pack members is in a lot of pain. I was wondering if you could help them out.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place.” Magnus forces a smile, pushing past the sharp twinge in his chest as he stands up. He gathers a few ingredients from his shelves and sits back down. The desk is littered with empty vials and scraps of paper. He throws the necessary components for the potion in the small cup and stirs it. Usually, he would spend his afternoons brewing in the living room, but lately he can't seem to be there for more than a few seconds without feeling nauseous.

“I really appreciate the help, Magnus.” Luke leans against the wall. His uniform is wrinkled and there are bruises under his eyes. It seems that the warlocks aren’t the only ones affected by the current tension brewing in the shadowworld. “Alec’s not here today?” Luke asks.

Magnus shakes his head. He somehow managed to convince Alec to take a break from watching over him, even if just for a few hours. “He’s at the Institute. While his concern for me is quite endearing, he does tend to hover,” Magnus says, a hint of fondness coloring his words.

Luke chuckles. “He can be a bit of a mother hen, can’t he?”

They chat for a few more minutes, until the potion is finally done brewing. “Now all it needs a simple incantation and you’ll be good to go,” Magnus says. He holds his hands above the vial, summoning the magic to his fingertips. He mutters the spell. “There, all done.”

A sudden wave of exhaustion hits Magnus as he stands up to hand Luke the potion. He has to grasp the edge of the desk to keep from toppling over. His head swims and vision blurs.

“Woah.” Luke reaches out to steady him. “Are you alright?”

There’s a sharp pain in Magnus’ chest. He looks down to see a small blotch of red bloom across his shirt. “I’m fine,” he tries to say but his mouth won’t cooperate. The potion shatters onto the floor. His knees buckle. The world around him fades away.

***

“Thank you, Catarina,” Magnus sighs.

“Goodnight, boys,” Catarina says. She waves them goodbye. The front door closes with a soft click.

Magnus heaves a sigh. He settles himself against the pillows, lying stretched out on the small couch in his office. The pain in his chest has subsided to a dull ache. The taste of metal still lies heavy on his tongue. It makes his stomach churn.

“Here.” Alec sets a mug down on the table next to him. “Catarina said it’ll help with the pain.” He then proceeds to clean up the glass shards from the floor.

“You know I have magic for that, right?” Magnus raises an eyebrow. He takes a sip of the drink and nearly gags. It tastes horrendous. Not wanting to face Catarina’s wrath again, he forces himself to continue drinking. “Cat may have told me to take it easy, but she hasn’t actually banned me from casting spells,” Magnus chuckles. Alec called her after Luke informed him of Magnus’ incident. Her orders had been perfectly clear: no more clients until his wound has fully closed.

Alec doesn’t laugh. “It’s fine,” he mutters. He stalks off to the kitchen to dispose of the shards. He comes back with a wet towel and starts wiping the floor.

Magnus chews his bottom lip. He takes another sip of his drink and grimaces. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Cat is trying to kill me. This tastes worse than Ragnor’s homemade soup.”

Alec throws the rag on the floor. “By the angel, Magnus, can you please stop?”

Magnus frowns. “Excuse me?” His grasp on the mug tightens. He knows Alec is upset with him, but this sudden outburst is unexpected.

Alec runs a hand through his hair. “You promised me you’d be careful, Magnus. What were you even thinking?”

“I was trying to help a friend,” Magnus says with a roll of his eyes. “Last I checked, that wasn’t a crime.”

“Can you please take this seriously?  It’s like you don’t even care,” Alec says, throwing his hands in the air.

“Of course, I care, Alexander,” Magnus says. “I’m just tired of being treated like some helpless child. I can handle brewing a few potions.”

“Can you?” Alec challenges. He starts pacing the room. “Do you even realize how close you came to dying last week, Magnus? Or did you forget?”

Magnus gapes at him. His cheeks flush with color. “No, Alec. I didn’t forget.” His heart pounds in his ears. “I can’t forget. I can barely stand to be in our living room without throwing up. All I can think of is how I was lying on that carpet, choking on my own blood and-” Magnus cuts off, overwhelmed. His hands shake. He closes his eyes and struggles to take a deep breath, fighting off the memory of blood flooding his airway, his chest tightening with the need for oxygen…

There’s a moment of heavy silence.

“I’m sorry,” Alec breathes. He rubs a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Magnus.”

Magnus sighs. “I understand that you’re worried, Alexander.” He looks down at his hands. “I’m sorry I tried to laugh it off.”

But Alec shakes his head. He slumps to his knees in front of Magnus, fisting the blanket draped over his legs. Tears shine in his hazel eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

Magnus frowns. “What’s wrong, darling?”

Alec hides his head in Magnus’ lap. “I keep saying I’m here for you, but I’m not. Not really.” His voice trembles. “I wasn’t here the night you were attacked, and I wasn’t here today.” Alec’s grip on the blanket tightens, his knuckles turning white. “I should never have left you.”

Magnus’ heart drops to his stomach. He has been so consumed with his own self-pity and pain these past few days, he didn’t notice Alec shouldering all this guilt. “You saved me, Alexander.” Magnus tilts Alec’s face up. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” He places a kiss on Alec’s forehead.

Alec closes his eyes, leaning into Magnus’ touch without thinking. “I’m not used to seeing you hurt. It’s always me, or Jace or Izzy...”

“My immortality doesn’t make me invulnerable, Alec,” Magnus sighs. People tend to think that as the High Warlock of Brooklyn, he is all-powerful and incapable of feeling pain, physical or emotional. If only that were true.

“I know,” Alec whispers. He manages a soft smile as Magnus wipes the tears from his face. His nose and cheeks are dusted with red.

“But,” Magnus sighs, “That is a conversation for another day.” He pulls the blanket back, shuffling to make room on the sofa. “Join me?” They managed to fit the both of them on it before, even with Alec’s freakishly long legs.

Alec slides into place, wrapping an arm carefully around Magnus’ waist. He makes sure they are completely enveloped by the blanket. “I love you.”

Magnus rests his head on Alec’s chest, listening to the beat of his heart. “I love you, too.” The two of them fall asleep in each other’s arms, knowing that the road to recovery is far from over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for this little fic! As before, thank you to the wonderful @bambirosesavage for proofreading! Please feel free to come rant with me about shadowhunters (or anything else remotely nerdy) on my tumblr @raewrites98.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently working on chapter two, which will be pure fluff and comfort as Alec helps Magnus recover! In the meantime, please feel free to talk to me on tumblr (@raewrites98). Huge thanks to @bambirosesavage as well for proofreading and encouraging me to post this! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ


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